Romanus strengthens the wavering; the devil's scheme

At that time, then, when many were being submerged, and the storm was rising, and many were suffering shipwreck, this blessed Romanus came into their midst. He did not immediately consider how to throw himself into the dangers, but first gathered together those who were afraid, those who had collapsed, those who had betrayed their own salvation. He encouraged them, he prepared them to fight back, raising up those who had fallen and securing those who were standing with prayers, exhortations, and counsels. He spoke at length about things to come and things present, showing the temporary nature of these and the permanence of those, setting rewards against labors, crowns against tortures, prizes against pains. He taught what the present life is and what the life to come is, how great the distance between the two, and that death is absolutely necessary. For even if we do not end our life in this way, we will certainly be compelled by the law of nature to depart from these bodies a little later.

By urging these things and others like them, he lifted up the weakened hands, he steadied the paralyzed knees, he brought back the fugitives, he cast out cowardice, he drove away anguish, he instilled courage. Instead of cowards he made them eager; instead of gazelles and deer he made them lions breathing with great strength. He welded together the army of Christ, and he turned the shame that was ours against the heads of the enemy.

So when the devil saw that a sudden transformation had taken place—that those who yesterday and the day before had feared him and trembled before him were now laughing at him and daring against him, stripping themselves for the dangers, leaping upon the torture chambers—and when he recognized the one responsible, he abandoned everyone else and breathed entirely against that man, moving all his power and madness against that blessed head.

And what does he do? Observe his wickedness. He did not bring him to tortures; he did not cut off his head. For the time that had passed had taught him that all these things were done in vain and to no purpose. Not only had they not cut short the eagerness of those who believed, but they had increased it further and made it greater and more fervent. “I spread coals underneath,” he says, “but they ran as if on roses. I kindled fire, but they threw themselves in as if into springs of cold water. I tore their sides and cut deep furrows and brought down streams of blood, but they adorned themselves as if they were being drenched on every side with gold. I hurled them from cliffs and plunged them into the sea, but they were not like people going down into the deep; they were like people going up into heaven itself, leaping and rejoicing, dancing as if in a sacred procession, playing as if in a green meadow. Each one seized the punishments in this way—not as punishments, but as spring flowers, being crowned, and by the excess of their own eagerness they outstripped my punishments.”

“What then should be done?” he says. “Should I cut off this man’s head? But what he prays for is what happens, and his disciples receive greater exhortation through deeds. For he has urged that the death of martyrs is not death, but life without end, and that above all one must endure everything for this, and that one must despise death. If then I cut off his head, and he bears what happens nobly, he will teach them more clearly through deeds that death must be despised in this way, and he will raise their spirits even more, and by dying he will breathe greater eagerness into them.”